


Reading your soul

by mymusicalbox



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Rated T for swearing, i'm really proud of this, sorry for the ooc, this is partly because of a headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6617698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymusicalbox/pseuds/mymusicalbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that someone's handwriting is the reflection of their very soul. That being true or not, Saruhiko didn't mind testing it with Misaki's handwriting.</p><p>Or: An overview on Misaki's handwriting through the years, featuring middle school fluff, bittersweet Homra era, painful and angsty pre-reconciliation era, and post-reconciliation fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reading your soul

It all started with a tap on his shoulder and a simple note. There was just a word written on a piece of paper. Just a word written in an amazingly beautiful and artistic handwriting.

 

“Hey” Read, fold. Maybe he should just break that useless piece of paper, he knew he should. But he didn't. And back to reality. Five minutes later, Saruhiko feels another tap on his shoulder, and then another note lays on his desk, right next to his left arm.

 

“I know you're reading my notes” This time, there was a full sentence. And if Saruhiko had been completely captivated by the simple 'hey' he was now absolutely amazed at how those words looked that stunning. He felt he could really spend hours and hours examining that sentence. That handwriting was really curious and unique. Read, fold, and again, back to reality. Only to be disturbed again by another insistent tap on his shoulder.

 

“Don't ignore me, you asshole” Read, fold, and that time, he decided to reply. Therefore, he grabs a piece of paper and writes his response without further delay.

 

“Who would guess that a rude person like you had such a cute, girly handwriting, Yata” Fushimi wrote down, then he folded the paper and passed the note behind, without even bothering to move anything else than his arm. He felt a hand brushing his in order to grab the note, because his stupid classmate couldn't wait for him to put the note on the desk and had to rip it off his own hand. That gesture sent a chill down Saruhiko's spine. Thus, he instinctively turned around, only to see a startled redhead with his eyes wide open and a light, very light red color on his cheeks. Seconds after that, he glared at Saruhiko and resumed his previous activities by writing down his response.

 

“How the fuck do you know my surname, Fushimi?” Again, same process. Tap on his shoulder, note. Damn, did that boy seriously want to be kicked out of class? At this rate, the teacher was going to scold them in front of the whole class. Not that it mattered, though.

 

“We are in the same class. The teacher says our surnames out loud every day. And why are you asking me the reason I know yours if you know mine? Has nobody taught you basic delicacy?” Seriously, wasting ink for this. Wasting his time for this, was stupid. But as stupid as it was, Saruhiko found himself still folding the paper and tossing it to Misaki's desk, to avoid what happened before. Yata's response came a few minutes later. Or it would have been like that if that stupid midget hadn't let his pencil case fall of his desk when trying to pass the note to the boy sitting in front of him.

 

“Fushimi Saruhiko, Yata Misaki! Do you think I don't notice your little game regarding notes? If I see any of you moving a single finger again I'll kick you out of class” The teacher shouted, glaring at them meanwhile their other classmates were laughing at that ridiculous scheme. _Misaki, huh?_ Fushimi smirked, realizing the similitudes between the redhead's handwriting and his name. When the period ended and the next one started (the last one for that day) started, he felt Yata tapping on his shoulder again, but instead of writing, he chose to spoke.

 

“Emmmm Fushimi, what I wrote on that note...” Misaki started, insecurity was easy to spot in his voice.

 

“You say the note I didn't get to read because you disturbed the teacher with your clumsy actions? How pathetic, Misaki” Saruhiko snapped, with a smirk on his lips.

 

“S-shut it, Saruhiko!” “I was just saying that I got scolded by our headroom teacher because my grades are... well, not that good. So he told me you've got great grades and that I should talk with you, but you're always alone and I didn't want to do anything wrong, so I thought that thing with the notes was better...” The redhead explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“I see. So you want me to teach you how to study” The black haired concluded. _So this is what he was after, huh?_

 

“I don't _want it_! Come on! It won't be that bad... just come at my home today and we'll study” The redhead suggested, slightly annoyed at his classmate's attitude.

 

“You've known me today, Misaki. And you're always alone, too. So don't go acting like you're popular” The taller boy shot back, wanting to end the conversation already.

 

Misaki's response didn't leave his mouth because the teacher was already talking about some project they had to do for the next day. The plan was starting it at class and finishing it for homework. The problem was that said project had to be in pairs. When the teacher said that, everyone had already settled next to the person they wanted to work with. On the other side, Saruhiko and Misaki were left alone, each of them still sitting in front of their respective desks. Seeing there wasn't any other option, Misaki abruptly stood up, grabbed his chair and brought it next to Saruhiko's, sitting next to him. The project consisted of a written formal letter in English, which one of the pair had to write down meanwhile the other thought about ideas, though both had to think about which lines to write.

 

“So, since we're stuck in this... which one of us is going to write?” The shorter boy asked, lifting an eyebrow.

 

“You.” Saruhiko replied automatically, without even thinking the answer before speaking.

 

“Why? I'm not good at English. You should know” Misaki claimed, knowing that if he was the one writing, mistakes were more likely to appear.

 

“Your handwriting is... ~~_cute_~~ nice.” The boy with glasses commented, trying to feign indifference.

 

“You said it was girly, dumbass. And yours is a disaster” Misaki stated, trying to understand what his classmate was up to.

 

“It is. Shut up and write, I'll think for you since you can't use your brain properly, Misaki” Saruhiko spoke, proceeding to get on with the project already.

 

And so he did. As Saruhiko was talking and suggesting lines to Misaki, the latter complied with his task and wrote down everything in a piece of paper they used as a draft. The black haired boy couldn't avoid looking at how concentrated Misaki looked while writing, how his hand moved and how delicately he held the pen between his fingers, how he pursed his lips, how his eyelids fluttered, how his hair radiated a slight reed sheen, as they were under a window and the sun completely bathed the redhead. Eventually, he got out of his daze as Misaki pronounced a _Saruhiko?_ Wondering why his classmate-maybe-now-friend had stopped talking. He was ready to resume his previous actions when the bell rang and they had to go home in order to finish the project.

 

When they arrived there, Misaki's parents weren't home, and they went straight to the redhead's room. After another while of writing and dictating, they finally ended. Then, the shorter boy raised his hand victoriously and accidentally stained his cheek with blue ink. At that, Saruhiko moved closer to his classmate and brought his right hand to the redhead's tainted cheek and wiped off the blue ink with his fingers. Said place was now a fiery red, and his hazel eyes were fixed on his blue ones. They stayed like that a few minutes, silence falling awkwardly over them. But then Misaki's mom came. And the letter was ended. And they had to part ways. They didn't talk about what had just happened and Saruhiko took the letter with him, treasuring Misaki's handwriting. Some people say that someone's handwriting is the reflection of their soul. Maybe that explained why, after handing that project, Misaki and him stuck together for a long, long time. _Or_ _maybe_ _not._

 

* * *

 

 

First, they shared a note. Then, they shared a touch. Following on from that, they shared glances and words. Afterward, there came the days spent together, awkward moments, memories. And before both of them knew, they were devoted to each other. They left middle school together, decided not to go to higschool together and rented a flat together. They faced the green clan also together and joined Homra, too. In short, a lot of things had changed in a brief period of time, although one thing that remained still was Saruhiko's admiration for Misaki's handwriting. The latter would always say how amazing Saruhiko was, but would not talk about his own handwriting. The truth was that the black haired could really see Misaki's soul in his handwriting, could really see how sensitive and delicate he was, unlike his own, messy calligraphy. As messy as his thoughts.

 

Eventually, blissful happiness had to end, and so happened when they joined Homra. Sometimes, Saruhiko would wake up alone at their flat, the bottom bunk bed empty. Those times, he would get out of his bed and find a handwritten note on the table. _Good morning! If you read this, I'm_ _at_ _Bar_ _Homra. You were sleeping so peacefully and I didn't want to wake yo_ _u_ _up, so come to the bar when you wake up. PD: Don't spend the whole day sleeping, dumbass,_ the note said. Despite wanting to crumple that piece of paper and throwing it away from him, Saruhiko couldn't bring himself to do it. Because maybe, and just maybe, the shorter boy's scribbling was still his weakness. That time, though, he examined it with more attention than he'd ever did before, and noticed that _something_ was changing. He decided not to think about it and head to Homra.

 

On that day, the people in the bar were as loud as ever. The Red King was sleeping on the couch with Anna next to him, Kusanagi was on the counter cleaning a glass, and Totsuka was writing something. Misaki was next to him. Then, naturally, Misaki turned his head and spotted Saruhiko, who had barely crossed the threshold. Waving his hand and grinning like he always did, he told Saruhiko to step closer to him and Totsuka. The blond was writing something on a piece of paper and the redhead was staring at him with shiny, gleaming eyes.

 

“Look, Saru! Totsuka-san is writing a song. Have you seen how beautiful his handwriting is?” Misaki asked, cheerfully.

 

“Not bad” Saruhiko answered, nonchalantly. _I prefer yours. I'm always going to prefer yours._

 

“I want to write like him! My handwriting is quite... g-girly” The redhead stuttered, nerviously.

_I like it. I love it. Don't change it._

 

Laughter filled everyone's ears as Chitose, Eric and a few more Homra clansmen got up and dragged Misaki outside. Seeing something was about to happen, Misaki grabbed Saruhiko's hand. As a consequence of that, they both ended up on the street, and after walking a few minutes, they were in front of an unpainted wall, in a lonely alley. There, those clansmen started to pick up a fight with Misaki and his handwriting and challenged him to write Homra's motto on the wall. Putting his biggest efforts into those big, red letters, Misaki dropped his familiar scribbling. Misaki stopped being himself. That sentence didn't feel like him anymore. The grin that followed that didn't feel like his anymore. When they entered the bar, Totsuka was still writing his song. With the paper on hand he approached the boy with glasses with his usual calm and peaceful stance, genuine smile on his face and something mysterious in his eyes.

 

“Yata likes my handwriting. I felt so happy when he told me that” Totsuka said, happily. Saruhiko just nodded.

 

“Maybe he would feel the same if you told him what you think about his handwriting, too” Totsuka added, causing shock to spread around Saruhiko's facial features.

 

_Maybe it's too late for that._

 

* * *

 

He always hated writing on paper, he always hated grabbing a pen and tainting his fingers with ink. That's why he's always liked typing, as it's so clean, it's not bothersome and it doesn't remind him of some messy redhead with a horribly beautiful scribbling _which he didn't miss. At all_. As time continued to go by, Saruhiko, now the Scepter's 4 third on command, got used to overtime and massive typing. His hands would end up hurting, but at least he wasn't tainted, _like him_. All his pens were always blue-inked, though, that was something that would _never_ change. His bossy superiors were also thankful to Saruhiko's great skills at typing and his aversion to writing on paper, as they had already noticed that his calligraphy was... chaos. Only a few people were able to understand it. _Misaki could_. Who knows if he still could. What Saruhiko knew, though, is that he wasn't able to understand Misaki's either. Anyway, that didn't matter anymore. The important matter was to focus on writing reports and correcting the ones which his incompetent co-workers did. There was no time to think about red ink, now.

 

But fate didn't think the same, as one day, there appeared a wild strain which turned out to be wandering around Homra's territory. More accurately, around _that alley._ The alley were Misaki wrote Homra's motto that time everything started to sink. The alley were Saruhiko burnt his Homra mark. The place were everything ended for them. Of course, when the two encountered (because Misaki happened to be there, casually), they proceed to fight. They moved in sync, as they did back in middle school when the black haired would dictate lines for the letter, as they did when Misaki always managed to drag the taller boy with him when things were still fine between them. Knives, clashing of swords and stupid baseball bats, blood. Pain. Everything seemed to create a beautiful piece of art, clouded by red ink.

 

One of Saruhiko's knives hit Misaki's right arm and he started to bleed. Homra's vanguard hissed from the sudden pain and his back hit the wall. The black haired flashed him a cruel smile, which faded when his blue eyes stared at those offensive sentences on the wall. All of them, were written by _Yatagarasu_. Not by Misaki. _Worthless,_ he muttered, as his eyes darkened. Everything could have ended, that fake hate could have ended, like the ink of a pen. But then Saruhiko's co-workers came, announcing they had captured the strain. Once in a lifetime, that bunch of annoying incompetents made their job right, so the Blue disappeared, leaving Misaki alone, with that wall full of paintings behind his back.

 

His shoulder was still bleeding, and the redhead's hand was also tainted with that red liquid. _Stupid monkey... why do you make that face when staring at the those sentences I wrote? I thought you liked my handwriting... I thought you understood it as I understood yours... or as I thought I did._

 

“Yata-san!” Kamamoto shouted, from far away.

 

“I'm fine, wait for me!” Misaki replied. Before leaving, he stared closely at a few words which he had written on the wall when Saruhiko was still in Homra. _Until death do us part._ He wrote it thinking about him, and he loved it. But he didn't like it anymore. _Worthless._

 

* * *

 

 

Some people say that everything, later or sooner, must return to its roots. Perhaps that explains why, after so much time far away from each other, Saruhiko was sitting on a chair, next to Misaki's, like they did that day on middle school. The day everything started, the day a spark was ignited. The Slate was destroyed now, and after a near-death experience together, followed by a too-big-too-make-a-summary-out-of-it talk in between hugs, tears and pain, Saruhiko and Misaki were living together again. And dating. They had been for four months, already. The thing is, they were, well, Misaki was, writing down on a piece of paper. what they needed to buy that afternoon.

 

“That's enough, Misaki. We should go now, the supermarket is going to close.” Saruhiko complained, tired of staring at a stubborn Misaki rubbing the back of his neck and hitting the table with the pen he had in hand.

  
“Wait” I think I'm missing something...” The redhead said, thinking about what to put on the list.

 

“Use your brain, idiot. Or you're going to go shopping alone.” The black haired announced.

 

“Ah! Vegetables. I was forgetting about that” The redhead exclaimed, his face lighting up at his sudden idea.

 

“You forgot another thing” Saruhiko started his sentence, a smirk forming in his face.

  
“Which one?” The shorter boy questioned, curiously.

 

“Milk” Saruhiko said, with a definite smirk.

 

“You're an asshole” The redhead shot back, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

 

“Shut up and write with your girly handwriting” The blackhaired said, teasingly, but in a fond way.

 

“Y-you said it was nice! B-back then...” Misaki sputtered, blushing. Remembering the day he met his boyfriend always made him turn into an incoherent mess.

 

“I did. But that doesn't change the fact that it's girly. And it won't ever, ever change” A _gain. Because it already changed once. And I hope it doesn't. Because I like it the way it is. I like you the way you are._

 

A few seconds after that, maybe because of the word “girly” or because Misaki was as hotheaded and impulsive as ever, Saruhiko had “asshole” written on his right arm. Black ink on his silky, smooth skin. They were using black-inked pens now, neither blue nor red. Reminiscing what he did back in middle school, when he replied Misaki's note without paying attention to his thoughts, Saruhiko grabbed the pen and wrote “idiot”. Then there came a “dumbass” on Saruhiko's arm again. A “shorty” on the redhead's arm, too. An hour had already passed and the boy wearing glasses had both of his arms covered with insults, fruit of Misaki's talent for swearing. When he thought there wasn't more space for painting and that the redhead had run out of bad words to write on his boyfriend's skin, Saruhiko was surprised by a completely red faced Misaki, holding the pen between his trembling digits in order to write one more time. _I love you,_ he wrote. _Me too,_ Saruhiko thought. But he had to answer. However, as there were no rules about their little game and he didn't have to answer with words, he forgot about his handwriting, about everything and proceeded to fill in the blanks on Misaki's arms. _Mine. Love. Thank you. Misaki. I love you. Stay with me. Forever._

 

If his face could have turned any redder, Misaki would have blushed even harder. His heart has threatening to leave his chest forever, and he was impossibly happier. Not caring about the damn supermarket, the damn groceries and the damn ink, he lunged to his boyfriends arms and tilted his head up, closing the space between them as they both melted in a sweet, loving kiss. Nevertheless, that hadn't ended, and following another of those crazy decisions he used to take, the redhead took hold of the pen one last time. Still hugging his boyfriend tightly, he wrote a last question near Saruhiko's collarbone. A perfectly and beautifully written _'marry me?'_ was now on the black haired's skin. _If only it could stay forever._

 

“Yes” Saruhiko muttered, trying to conceal the faint, but still utterly genuine smile that was now placed on his lips. _If you don't mind being with me. If you don't mind me teasing you about something I love and I always loved. If you're willing to stay. If you're willing to keep me with you._

 

And Misaki smiled.

 

“But now we have other stuff to attend. Come with me and clean me up, Misaki?” Saruhiko singsonged, caressing his boyfriend's cheek.

 

“S-save that for the honeymoon, you perverted asshole!” The redhead stuttered out of embarrassment. His face was still red as hell.

 

_And so they did. Or not._

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! It's been a few days since I last wrote something for those two! I honestly hope I'm improving because I really like writing for this fandom and ;; 
> 
> So, this came because of a headcanon I thought about on tumblr, thanks to a shipping meme. I couldn't resist and as a result of that, I spent the whole afternon of today writing this. And I regret nothing. Even though I feel it is slightly OOC (or more) I'm really proud of this.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed and please let me know what you think, as well as I'd like to know if there are any mistakes here ~
> 
> Feel free to contact me through my tumblr weakeninghope.tumblr.com ^^


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